Identity
by Angel-Hunteress
Summary: Sylar and Peter wake up in a world where everything seems perfect. They are brothers, have a happy family, and there is no 'hunger', Sylar, or Pinehearst, and Gabriel is the man he once was. But is it real, or all a lie? Syelle, other pairings welcome.
1. Awake

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

Peter groaned, his eyes fluttering. He didn't want to open them just yet.

He had been dreaming again. Not an important and prophetic one--at least, not a dire one, he hoped--but a dream where he had been at one of Nathan's stupid fundraiser, dressed in one of those ridiculous suits again...

He turned over onto his back, not remembering when his bed felt so uncomfortable.

He squeezed his eyes shut when a bright light hit them, even closed. He had left his lights on again. He couldn't really remember what had happened last night, but his head hurt. Had he gotten drunk?

He turned on his side, and the bed still did not feel anymore comfortable.

He reached up to grab the pillow. It seemed to have gotten away from him in his sleep. His hand felt around...but there was nothing there.

And the texture of the bed was off. It felt more like...

A carpet.

He groaned again, trying to sit up.

His muscles were crying out in pain, as if he had just been out jogging all night. Why was he in pain? Shouldn't he have regenerated if that were the case then?

He was still in his apartment, it seemed. He didn't remember coming home last night, but apparently he did, somehow. He hadn't even bothered to get dressed for bed, either. He was still in his street clothes.

He was in his living room, and he surmised that he had fallen asleep on the couch and had probably rolled off at some point.

There was another groan, and this time, it wasn't from him. Rather, it seemed to come from a close distance from him, perhaps a few feet away.

He froze, looking around.

It seemed to be coming from the kitchen, behind the small counter. It seemed male, and he quickly guessed that perhaps this person was just waking up, too...

Something didn't seem to be right.

"What...?" Peter heard the person ask, his voice muffled by the counter. It seemed so familiar. Was it...Nathan?

Peter raced over there, seeing a hand grasp the ledge of the counter. He grabbed it, helping to pull him up.

His heart nearly stopped cold as he saw who it was.

"Sylar."

"Peter."

Within an instant, both reached out, using their telekinesis against each other.

Peter felt his windpipe being crushed, his telekinetic strength weakening as his regeneration power became his primary power. He looked around, sending an unused tea kettle that had been resting on the stovetop flying, making contact with Sylar's head.

Sylar fell to the ground, quickly regenerating from the wound.

"What're you doing here?" Peter asked, watching as Sylar focused on sending the books from the bookshelf at Peter.

"Stop playing stupid, Peter," Sylar replied as Peter deflected the books, sending them back toward the serial killer. "You were the one that brought me here."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Peter told him, sending a shock of electricity at Sylar.

Sylar fell backward, skidding toward the door.

At the chance, Peter turned invisible.

Sylar looked up, not seeing Peter anywhere in sight. He smirked, picking up the sugar bowl with his mind. "Come on, Peter. Don't want to come out and play with your long-lost brother?"

"You're _not_ my brother," Peter spat. "You never were."

He spun toward where Peter's voice had been, throwing sugar toward it with his mind. It fell to the floor. "So. 'Mommy' told you about that, huh? Well, maybe her and 'Daddy' had been lying to you, too, Peter. Are you so sure that you're their son, too? After all, you've never really fit in with the rest of the Petrellis. You're father being a cold, manipulative bastard, your self-absorbed brother, and your mother being a cold-hearted, lying bi--"

"You son of a bitch!"

All at once, it felt like a train had hit him. As he crashed to the floor, he realized that Peter had tackled him. He heard something shatter in the distance, and vaguely, his mind registered the noise as the sugar bowl.

Peter threw a punch, hitting him square in the jaw. In the process, he became visible again. Sylar threw Peter off with his mind, sending Peter flying across the room, hitting the wall loudly. Sylar telekinetically stood him up against the wall, pressing Peter's face into it.

He turned toward the kitchen, getting a butcher knife out of the knife holder. It sailed across the room, stopping less than an inch from the back of Peter's neck: the base of his skull.

Sylar smirked.

"I never thought killing you would be so...easy," he told him. "But here we are. And in your own apartment, too. But that's irony. Of course, once this knife is removed, that pesky little regenerative ability might just come back. But then again, once I have your powers, it won't really matter. I'll be stronger than you."

"I don't think so," Peter replied, and Sylar felt something sharp on the back of his own neck.

Peter had gotten another knife, it seemed, and was now pointing it at the base of _Sylar's _skull.

Damn.

Neither moved, at a stalemate.

Then the phone rang.

Sylar smirked at Peter. "You gonna get that?"

"Go to hell."

After the fourth ring, it went to the answering machine.

"_Hey, it's Peter, leave a message."_

"How original."

"Shut up."

_The speakers filled with static, and a faint voice was heard in the background, too difficult to make out at first. Then, all at once, it seemed to be two people talking, both at the same time and saying different things, each too difficult to make out._

"I think it's for you, Peter."

"Don't even try, Sylar. And shut up."

As Peter concentrated more closely, dividing the two voices, he could make out what they were each saying.

_"Peter? Pe...Peter, can you hear me? Oh, God. Peter? Pe...Peter, can you hear me? Oh, God." _The voice was unmistakably Nathan's, repeating over and over.

_"You all right, brother?" _The voice was unfamiliar, and seemed to have some kind of accent, perhaps Scottish. _"I think he's hurt...You all right, brother? I think he's hurt."_

"What is that?" Peter asked Sylar. "A trick?"

Sylar smirked. "You tell me. You gonna put the knife down, Peter, or we gonna have to do this the hard way?"

There was a sound of keys jingling near the door, and both pairs of eyes darted in the direction. There were two indistinguishable voices coming from behind, one male and one female.

As the door opened, the woman giggled at something the man said. Upon opening the door, they looked at the mess.

"What the hell happened here!" Nathan shouted, pushing the woman back outside. "Stay back. Jesus Christ, we go for groceries and find you guys at each others' throats already! Put the knives down!"

Peter looked at his brother curiously, not wavering his hold on the knife at Sylar's throat. "What...what are you talking about, Nathan? After what he did to Claire, to everyone...he's a killer!"

"What the hell are you talking about, Peter, he's your--"

"Daddy?"

There was a creak of floorboards, and the three turned toward the source. There was a little boy, perhaps only two or three, standing in his pyjamas, looking between the three.

"Oh, my God," the woman said, storming in and hugging the boy to her. "Sweetie, go back to bed. Your father is just being an idiot. Go."

She kissed the boy on the forehead, watching as the little boy turned and went back to his room. She turned toward the others, her hands on her hips, her blue-green eyes blazing with anger.

"Just what the hell were you thinking? Using your powers in front of my son?" She looked between the two, but neither said anything.

She walked up to Sylar, locking eyes with him. Peter could feel the knife at his neck begin to tremble. He turned toward the serial-killer, noticing that he had paled considerably. Hell, even _Peter _was scared.

The woman stood on her tip-toes, until she was level with Sylar's eyes. "Well?"

Sylar said nothing, instead looking back at her with wide-eyes.

"What?" she asked him, still seething.

"Y-you're dead," he stuttered, and for once, Peter saw him as Gabriel, not Sylar anymore. He was vulnerable, it seemed, scared.

"What?" She was still angry, Peter could tell, but taken aback by what Gabriel had said.

"How...?" Gabriel stammered. "What the hell's going on here? Who was that boy in there, why the _hell_ are you alive, and why am I not supposed to...kill Peter?"

Her eyes seemed to soften considerably. "Did he have another relapse?"

"That explains it," Nathan said simply. "Thanks for keeping him in check, Pete. Just next time...try not to break as much stuff."

Peter stayed quiet, not sure how to answer, but figured that maybe silence was best. He could gather information better. Maybe he was in the future...?

The woman touched Sylar's arm gently, smiling. The anger seemed to dissapate. "Gabriel...you, Peter and I _live_ here. Peter's your _brother_, Gabriel. That boy...he's our son, Gabriel. And...I'm your wife."

"Wife?" Gabriel asked, confused. He paused, before rolling his eyes, his coolness and evil coming back. "I'm not falling for your stupid tricks. You must've got an illusionist. Like Candace. Good job, Peter."

He raised his hand to grab the woman, still pointing the knife at Peter's neck and vise versa, but the woman raised her hand to stop him.

"Let me explain! Please!"

He stopped, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Her grip on his arm tightened, though not too much. "Do you know who I am, Gabriel?"

He looked into her eyes, searching. There was something that he had recognized, a sparkle that he had always seen.

"Tell me my name," she pleaded.

He lowered his voice, his eyes locked onto hers.

"Elle."


	2. Explanations

A/N: Wow! I'm really surprised at the feedback I got! To tell you the truth, I didn't think that the last chapter was very good, although, I do like the plot.

This chapter isn't all that great, either. I'm sorry. I'm working on this and 'What Is and What Should Never Be.' Actually, both as we speak. But hopefully you guys will like it.

Note: I'm still playing with the idea of who to ship Peter with. I really like Paire, but I don't think it really wouldn't fit with the story as I feel it brings the whole Gabriel/Peter/Nathan brother-friendship and the whole GabriElle pairing out of focus.

Thanks to all my viewers/alerters/favoriters/reviewers, especially **balletflats_, Lara-Van**, **Fan**, **Kathryn Shadow**, **Cat Yuy**, **ame**, **BlueDragon007**, **chocolatemooses**, **cherulabelle**, **Baka Nii-San** (wouldn't happen to be a fan of FullMetal Alchemist, would you?) You guys are all awesome!

* * *

**Chapter 2: Explanations**

They were all sitting in the living room.

After much coaxing on both parts, Peter and _'Gabriel'_ had finally put the knives down.

Nathan sighed, a glass of scotch in his hand that he had gotten from the new liquor cabinet.

As Peter began to settle down, he began to find little differences around the apartment. The apartment was child-proofed, for one, and there were various children's toys strewn about the floor. Another obvious change were that two shelves on his bookcase were filled with various books on memory, psychology, and other literature that Peter had not had before.

Nathan cleared his throat, turning to Sylar. "What we're about to tell you might...shock you. You might think we're crazy, but we're not. Just hear us out first." He nodded to Peter. "Pete."

Peter froze, trying to come up with an excuse of how _not _to explain. After all, he also wanted answers, but his telepathic powers were telling him that telling Nathan and Elle that he had no idea what the _hell_ was going on might be a bad idea. "I tried, Nathan. He, uh...he didn't believe me."

He received a glare from Sylar.

Peter knew that for the time being, Sylar would hold himself in check, not able to resist a situation so puzzling without getting answers first. But Peter was still on alert for anything the serial killer might pull. After all, not only was Nathan in here, but a 'nice-Elle' and a child. His nephew, apparently.

"I'll start, then," Elle began, in her usual bright voice. She turned toward Nathan, as if to ask for silent permission. He nodded. She turned back to Sylar. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I..." He tried to put his 'Sylar' facade back, turning back to her with a cold and sinister smirk, but Peter detected a slight hint of remorse in his voice. "I killed you."

Elle's eyes widened. "What?"

The bit of remorse was gone, perhaps pushed to the back of his mind as Sylar continued. "After the second eclipse about two months ago. We got our powers back and _Hiro Nakamura_ teleported us to that beach. I sliced your head open, took your power and burned your body after."

Elle's mouth hung agape, out of shock. She didn't know what to say to him. Peter could feel her getting angry and saddened by what he said. Peter knew Elle well enough to know that she was ready to send sparks flying at Sylar for his remark, mostly out of fear. The rest would result in a fight.

Luckily, Nathan stepped in. "Gabe, there _was_ no second eclipse. Everything you think that's happened...getting stabbed, meeting Maya..._all that _was a lie. None of that happened."

Nathan looked up, catching Peter's eyes, an odd look on his face. Then he looked back down at Sylar, continuing. "About a year and a half-ago, we met on Kirby Plaza. Do you remember that?"

"Yeah," Sylar replied bitterly. "Hiro Nakamura stabbed me."

"Not exactly," Nathan corrected, taking another sip of scotch. He continued. "You came to Kirby Plaza, looking for Peter. After all the powers you absorbed, you had a vision of Peter blowing up New York. You went straight there to stop him."

As Nathan continued the story, Peter noticed a framed photograph resting on the coffee table, one that he knew had not been in the apartment before. He grabbed it, trying to feign boredom rather than confusion.

"You came just in time, too," Nathan said. "I was so ready...I was going to fly up with Peter as far as we could so that New York wouldn't be hit. I had a death wish. Then you came along. Just showed up outta nowhere."

The photo was of Peter and Sylar--or_ Gabriel_, according to Nathan--both smiling in front of Kirby Plaza, their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders. They seemed so close...so happy.

_Brothers._

Something was definitely wrong, here.

"Lucky for us, you had Dad's power," Nathan continued with a fond smile. "All you did was give him a hug. That was all. You just...hugged him and it was gone, Peter's power. You saved New York."

There was another pause as Nathan took another sip of scotch. Peter wondered what had caused his brother to be so dramatic. He was never a storyteller, not for as long as Peter could remember. Normally, Nathan spoke short and concise, ever the politician.

"You fell into a coma shortly after," Nathan told him.

At this, Gabriel seemed confused. Peter's telepathy picked up a stray thought from him, one sounding very vulnerable and afraid.

_Am I dead?_

"Taking so many powers at once was too much for you to handle. You collapsed shortly after and rushed to the hospital to be treated, but you didn't wake up. That was when Ma told us you were our brother."

"I'm_ not_ your brother!" Sylar snapped. "She lied to you. She told me I was her son but she was just being a cold-hearted manipulative--" His sentence stopped abruptly when Elle gave him a light zap.

"Don't talk about your mother like that," Elle scolded. "She's a good woman."

"She's _not_ my--"

"We didn't believe it either," Nathan cut in, effectively shutting up Sylar and ending what could've been a potential fight. "At first. We knew what she was like--what Dad turned her into. We did DNA tests and they were a match."

"You woke up six months later," Elle continued. "But you were...different. Apparently your mind had overleaded, and you were...hallucinating. You believed that you were Sylar, a serial killer. That Peter exploded over New York city, that you were stabbed in the chest, that...there was a virus that was almost going to destroy the world."

"You were delusional," Nathan added. "Wrapped up in your own warped reality."

"You didn't recognize us at all," Elle said. "And the times when you were lucid, really you were just looking at us through the eyes of this _Sylar _person. That's why I had to move in with Peter, because...I was afraid for Noah."

"Noah?" asked Peter and Sylar in unison. They shared a glare.

"After Noah Bennet," Elle said with a fond smile.

Sylar tensed. "Noah Bennet? Why the _hell_ would I want to name my son after _him_?"

"He's the one who helped us out so much. You and him were the ones who got me out of the Company four years ago, and he kept the Company from getting _you_ when you were in the coma. He brought us together...and kept us together."

"No. He tried to kill us, Elle," Gabriel said. Then his voice softened. "He...he shot you."

Elle put a hand on his knee soothingly. "Gabriel_, no_. He's a good friend."

Nathan nodded toward Peter, downing the last of his scotch. "Pete, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a minute?" He looked back at Elle. "I'll be back. Fill him in more about the family, if you can."

Peter got up, following Nathan out of earshot.

"What the hell's up with you?" Nathan asked.

"I don't--"

"You were ready to_ kill _Gabriel when we walked in, you looked at me and Elle lik we're total strangers--hell, you didn't recognize your own _nephew_--calling Gabriel a serial killer, you acted like you heard Gabriel's story for the first time...Christ, you want the whole list?"

Peter sighed, deciding to come clean. "You're right. I don't--I don't know what's going on. Where I'm from, that man out there is a killer and a monster. Nathan, he _did_ something to Claire, to your daughter, and he _murdered_ Dad and a bunch of other people and if we don't--"

Nathan abruptly seized him by the shoulders. "Peter--"

_"No!" _Elle shrieked from the living room. _"Peter!"_

The two brothers rushed out, seeing Sylar holding little Noah in his arms. He was holding him carefully, as a person normally held a child, but his free hand was outstretched, his telekinesis pinning Elle against the back wall. Tears were streaming down Elle's face as she cried out, afraid for her son.

Peter raised an arm to try to stop him, but Sylar acted first. Peter found himself flying backward, skidding him into the kitchen cabinets, the handle smashing into his skull. He heard another loud noise next to him, seeing Nathan getting thrown across the floor as well.

"You expect me to believe this?" Sylar spat at Elle. "That we're all just...one big happy family and everything I want is here? I don't know who you really are, '_Elle_' but you almost had me fooled for a while. I've learned not to trust Petrelli's when it comes to family. You're only manipulative liars."

"Gabriel--" Elle began, her voice shaking with fear and pain.

"_It's Sylar!"_ Sylar screamed as Noah began to squirm in his arms.

"Where..." Elle began, her voice quiet. "Where are you taking him?"

Sylar gave a smirk. "Away."

He opened the door and left.

As Sylar left, Peter could hear the serial killer's thoughts, afraid and vulnerable.

_I have to know if this is real._

About a minute later, the hold on the three wore off, and Elle fell to the floor with a loud crash. Nathan and Peter stood up, Nathan running out the door after Sylar. Peter could feel the wound where the cabinet-door handle had impaled him begin to heal.

He rushed over to Elle, kneeling down at her side. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I think so."

He looked to her forehead, seeing blood begin to trickle down her face. "God, you're bleeding. Hold on."

He looked up, seeing the cracked photograph of him and Nathan, of long ago. Elle must've hit her head on it from the impact when Sylar had pinned her to the wall. He quickly searched for a towel, running water over it and put it on Elle's cut.

"Thanks," Elle said, taking the towel.

It still felt weird, Peter had to admit, being so nice with Elle. She seemed different, not totally, but...changed. He sure liked her a _whole_ lot better than the psycho one he knew.

"He didn't mean to hurt me," Elle said, biting her lip to keep from crying. "I don't think he really wanted to. Or else he would've...killed me."

Before Peter could respond, Nathan came back into the apartment, closing the door softly behind him. He shook his head. "He's gone."

Elle sighed, a single tear running down her cheek. "He won't hurt him. He _can't_."

"Dammit!" Nathan cursed.

"We've gotta find him," Peter said.

Nathan dug into his pocket, retrieving his cell phone, and typed in a number. "Hey...no, it's Gabriel this time. He's relapsed again...yeah. This time he took Noah...no idea...yeah, and Peter too...yeah...How soon?...Thanks, man."

He hung up, turning to the other two. "Parkman's coming with Daphne, Molly and Suresh. They'll be here in a few minutes."

"Look, whoever you think Gabriel was, it's not him anymore," Peter said. "That man out there is Sylar, a murderer. We've gotta find him. Fast."

"Good thing we've got Molly and Daphne on our side," Nathan said with a fake smile, Peter could tell.

There was a buzzing noise of a phone vibrating that come from the table. Peter looked to Elle and Nathan, but both ignored it.

He walked over to the table, picking up the cell phone, seeing the bold letters.

**1 NEW TEXT.**

He opened it, and it was filled with letters, a very long text.

_Peter? It's Claire. God, I don't know if you--nevermind, that's totally cliched and I know how you hate cliches. But, look, I just want you to know that whatever happens, well...I love you. But not like that! I mean--Oh, god, I just--_

There was a knock on the door. Startled, Peter looked up to see Nathan open the door, revealing Matt Parkman, Mohinder Suresh and Molly Walker standing in the doorway.

Peter looked back down at the phone, but the text message was gone, the screen clear. He put it in his pocket, walking over to the newcomers.

Matt nodded over to him. "Hey." He turned toward the others. "Daphne's out running the streets. She'll be here in a minute or two."

As if on cue, Daphne appeared in the doorway in a blur, then stopped. She gave Matt a kiss on the cheek. "What'd I miss?"

He looked over at Peter, squinting, before turning to Nathan and Elle. "Nothing yet. Why don't you and Molly go with Nathan and Elle to find Noah?"

He nodded toward Peter, walking over to him, Suresh behind him.

"What's going on?" Matt asked him, not unlike the way Nathan had asked earlier. "You keep calling him Sylar?"

"I don't know," Peter answered truthfully, knowing he couldn't act innocent with the telepath. "I just remember waking up here, and everything was...different."

"What was the last thing you remember?" Mohinder asked him.

"I destroyed the labratory in Pinehearst," Peter replied. "Where the formula that gave people abilities was being created. The one that _you _created_._"

Mohinder shook his head. "I never created any formula that gave people abilities. And I've never heard of Pinehearst."

"It's another company like Primatech," Peter told him. "It was...it was run by my dad. Until he...he was killed."

Matt sighed. "Peter, all those things...they never happened. They're not real."

"I'm not making this up," Peter argued. "I mean, how do you explain that me and Sylar remember the exact same things? Maybe I'm in one of those, you know, alternate reality things."

"Alternate reality?" Mohinder repeated, skepticism in his voice.

"Those things that Hiro always talks about?" Matt asked. "The whole 'for every action there's a reality made' or something?"

"I think I know what's going on here," Mohinder said.

"You do?" Peter asked.

"I believe that this is nothing more than a bad stroke of luck with your abilities," Mohinder explained. "When Gabriel went into relapse, perhaps you didn't know what it was at first. You tried to use your telepathy to read his mind. It backfired on you, and somehow you downloaded his reality into your mind, becoming the Peter Petrelli in his fantasy."

"What happened, my memories," Peter started. "It's real. I know it is."

"The mind is a powerful thing," Mohinder said. "It's perceptions are beyond imagining. It can create sounds, sights, feelings when they are not there. There's no telling what would happen when a telepathic ability is thrown in."

"How do I know that _this_ isn't real, then?" Peter countered. "That maybe I'm dreaming, or someone's put this illusion around me?"

"I can't tell you," Mohinder replied. "And even if I could, I doubt that would be sufficient proof."

Peter sighed, running a hand though his hair.

Mohinder looked toward the living room. "They haven't found her?"

"He's pretty good at hiding," Matt replied. "When he wants to."

"Wonder where he is," Peter said, following them out to the living room.

---

"I found him."

It was three hours later, and finally, Molly found him.

Bellevue Hospital.

"I'll get him," Daphne said. "Be back faster than--"

"I've got it," Peter insisted. "This is my responsibility."

He closed his eyes, concentrating. Within seconds he had arrived in the hospital, the bright flourescent lights blinding his eyes. He looked around, seeing no sign of Sylar or Noah.

He walked around the hospital, asking if anyone had seen him. There was no luck. Most of the doctors hadn't seen either one, and some were pretty rude. Finally, he spotted Sylar and Noah outside, in the waiting room.

Sylar didn't notice Peter, and was instead watching Noah play with the set of toys given by the hospital.

Peter approached him, his hands clenched, waiting for Sylar to make a move.

Sylar shook his head. "I don't want a fight, Peter. Not here."

"Why did you take him?" Peter asked.

"I had to see for myself," Sylar replied. "Something's going on. I need to find out what exactly it is. You have to understand, I don't trust you Petrelli's."

"Yeah, and according to Nathan, you _are_ one," Peter replied. "I don't know if this is real, but...you've got to get back, then we can--"

"Mr. Petrelli?" asked a nurse, stepping out into the waiting room, carrying a large folder. She looked at Gabriel. "We have the results."

Peter looked curiously as Sylar took the folder, opening it. He scanned through it...

And crumbled to the floor.

"Oh, god," his defense was gone, shattered for one vulnerable moment as the person of Gabriel Gray surfaced. Gabriel dropped the folder, taking Noah into his arms, hugging him. "It's true. It's true...oh, God."

Peter looked at the folder, his eyes widening at the sight.

Paternity test results.

Positive.

Gabriel pressed a kiss to Noah's forehead. "I have a son."

Then, with near tears in his eyes, Gabriel turned to Peter, a single thought echoing in his mind.

_We have to get out of here, Peter._

* * *

Well, how was that for something written at 1:30 in the morning-ish? I gotta tell you, I am NOT really loving this thing. I really gotta get outta the habit of writing things at night when I'm half-dead. Seriously.

Leave me a review. I might fix this chapter if I feel like it.

Anyone else feeling this cold weather, btw?


End file.
